


L'Histoire de L'Amour

by danfanciesphil (thejigsawtimess)



Series: L'Histoire Française [2]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, Epilogue, Fluff, M/M, Paris (City), Smut, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 08:51:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13678368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejigsawtimess/pseuds/danfanciesphil
Summary: A well deserved epilogue for these boys, who had a bumpy beginning, and have a bright, romantic future ahead.





	L'Histoire de L'Amour

**Author's Note:**

> This epilogue was written for you! You, reader, are my Valentine whether you like it or not. Here is your gift. I love you. 
> 
> <3

For years, Dan had written February 14th off as a fool’s holiday. He’d never looked forward to celebrating it. The cards and gifts he saw in shops seemed cheap and tacky. Pink and red clashed awfully, in his opinion. **  
**

On Valentine’s Day of 2018, however, Dan wakes up in Paris.

He wakes in an embrace, cocooned in a safe, familiar warmth. He wakes with someone he loves, in the city they’d fallen for one another.

Last year, Dan had spent the day with Stephanie, his ex. Whilst the day had been far from a total disaster, it would be a stretch to say he’d particularly enjoyed himself. Stephanie had a lot of preconceived notions about exactly how Dan should behave on that particular holiday, based on the behaviour of her previous boyfriends.

Under her instruction, Dan had booked a table for the two of them at one of the restaurants she had told him would be appropriate to pick. He’d bought her a bouquet of red roses - his initial idea to buy wildflowers had been wrong, apparently - and selected the schmaltsiest card in the store.  

He got in a bit of trouble for not adding a personal enough message, but Stephanie soon forgot, more focused on updating her Instagram story than on Dan himself. She also received a cuddly toy with a loveheart pattern on its fur, and a charm bracelet. Dan had been so out of his depth when choosing these gifts that he’d actually needed to ask Stephanie’s sister for help. So, in a way, none of the Valentine’s Day stuff he did had anything to do with him.

This year, he hasn’t gained much more control over the day itself, but the difference is palpable.This year, Dan is giddy with excitement. He looks forward to the fourteenth for weeks. He counts down from the beginning of February, setting a reminder on his phone each day, so that he knows how many days are left.

Phil notices this one Saturday morning, seeing the notification pop up on Dan’s screen as they’re laying in bed. He laughs for twelve minutes (Dan counts) and tells Dan it’s adorable. He kisses the embarrassment off of Dan’s face, assuring him that it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

Honestly, Dan feels like he can’t be blamed for his excitement. Phil has booked them a trip to  _Paris_. And not in some crummy hostel this time. There will be no hoards of difficult, rowdy teenagers, nor a figure of father-like authority to chaperone them. They’ll have one bed, all to themselves, and a whole three days of free time to explore the beauty of the city in a way they couldn’t before.

When the sun rises on the morning of Valentine’s Day, it pours, treacly and gold, through the glass doors of Dan and Phil’s hotel room, washing over Dan, burrowed beneath the duvet. Last night, when he saw the view through those windows, he’d refused to allow Phil to close the curtains. It’s not every day one is able to look out and see the Eiffel Tower, twinkling on the dark horizon.

As he drifted into sleep, he stared out at it, near breathless with wonderment.

The sun weaves into the slits between Dan’s eyelids, pulling him into the world of wakefulness once more. He smiles, lazy and happy, as he takes in the sight of the Parisian skyline beyond the glass in front of him, every bit as gorgeous as it is on the delicate tattoo etched onto Phil’s skin.

The doors open onto a balcony, a typically French affair, complete with a gilt black railing, which is currently frosted with a thick coating of snow.

After a moment of staring, Dan turns slowly, dragging his eyes from the incredible view out of the windows, to an even more fantastical sight. Phil, next to him, eyes fluttering as he swims up from the depths of whatever dream he’s submerged in. He blinks awake, sleepy and languorous, a smile melting across his mouth; arms tighten around Dan’s waist.

“Morning,” Dan murmurs, already rapturous. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Phil makes a noise of contentment, falling towards Dan and pushing their lips together. The kiss is soft with sleep, and on the verge of being too warm. There’s a hint of stubble on Phil’s chin, and Dan drags his skin against it, wanting to remind himself of how lucky he is, to be able to feel the imperfection of Phil’s unshaven jaw against his.

“H’ppy V’lentines,” Phil murmurs back.

His hands are skimming up and down Dan’s bare back. To demonstrate just how much he  appreciates that sensation, Dan presses himself against Phil’s chest, slipping his tongue into the kiss. He can feel the responding rumble of laughter as it vibrates deep within Phil’s chest.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Dan complains, finding the hem of Phil’s baggy t-shirt and slipping his hands beneath it, rucking it up around his waist. “Valentine’s Day should be a no-pyjamas-allowed occasion.”

“Oh r’lly,” Phil drawls, thumb pinging the waistband of Dan’s Calvin Klein’s. “Does this rule apply to you as well, Mr Howell?”

Dan nods enthusiastically, already shimmying the offending garment over his bum with one hand. He gets them off and kicks the briefs away, sending them deep into the folds of the thick quilt.

He quickly moves to help Phil strip off too, hands frantic and fumbling as they tug and grapple with the material. Phil just chuckles against his mouth, amused by Dan’s eagerness, but welcoming of it too.

He presses some soft, open-mouthed kisses against Dan’s neck, his breath hot against the sensitive area, making Dan squirm. Phil’s hands have found their way down to Dan’s bum, and he’s squeezing it in his big palms, pulling Dan towards him so he can grind them together.

Dan slips his thigh between Phil’s legs, canting his hips up until Phil moans, until he’s sinking his teeth into Dan’s throat.

“Give me ten thousand hickeys,” Dan says, breathless. “We’re not at school for another three days, just go for it.”

Phil doesn’t respond in words, but does as he’s told nonetheless, sucking and biting over the skin of Dan’s neck. He rolls Dan onto his back and leans over him, pushing Dan’s head to the side with a sure but gentle hand, so he can gain better access to the area.

Dan gasps, his feet scrabbling for purchase on the soft, slippery sheets of this fancy king size bed. His fingers find the grooves of Phil’s shoulder blades, and he grabs on, as if they were handles specifically crafted for him to cling to.

He can feel how hard Phil has become, can feel the weighty length of him as it presses, urgent and wanting, against Dan’s thigh. Without thinking, he reaches down, wrapping his hand around it.

He can feel the stutter Phil chokes out as he feels this. He stops sucking for a moment, just breathing hard into the crook of Dan’s neck.

“You have such soft hands,” he murmurs, the words slurred. “They feel so good.”

“Wanna feel something even better?”

Phil draws backwards a little, looking Dan in the eye. He’s squinting, because he hasn’t got his contacts in, and just knowing this one, tiny fact is fantastic enough to prompt a fizz of elation in Dan’s stomach. He grins up at Phil, kissing him soundly, once, before rolling them over, landing on top of him.

He throws the covers backwards, exposing their naked bodies to the chilly air of the room. It makes Phil gasp, but Dan doesn’t let himself feel too guilty. Neither of them are going to be cold for long.

He kisses down Phil’s chest, going quickly because he’s impatient, and besides - this is something he loves doing. As soon as he realises what’s happening, Phil groans, one hand flying up to plunge into his shock of bed hair.

In the past couple of months since he and Phil started dating, Dan has gotten a lot better at this. It had never been something he expected he would particularly enjoy, at least no more than going down on girls, but to his surprise, it’s become something of a kink for him. He’s not sure if the fact that it’s Phil in particular that makes the act more of a turn on than if it were another, random man. No matter the reason, though, going down on Phil is such a pleasurable activity, that Dan seizes almost any opportunity to do it.

This, for obvious reasons, is not always entirely appropriate. They’ve only done it at school once, and Phil had been so terrified of someone walking in that he hadn’t even finished, but it had still been exciting. Later, once Valentine’s Day is out of the way, and things have settled down, Dan’s planning on trying that again.

Nobody ever comes in to Phil’s classroom at break times anyway.

Once he’s slipped his mouth over Phil’s erection, a sense of confidence floods Dan’s body, and he sinks down, the gears of his muscle memory whirring into life as his mouth and throat relax in order to accommodate him. That’s another point that Dan has previously considered - that perhaps the size of his boyfriend’s equipment has an impact on how incredibly hot Dan finds this.

He sinks down, feeling his throat muscles quivering as they struggle to accept the girth of Phil, but persevering nonetheless. He bobs his head, settling into a steady rhythm. Phil twitches and moans, his hips stuttering, as if he’s trying to prevent himself from thrusting forwards. Dan wishes he wouldn’t bother; he finds it even hotter when Phil loses control.

He can hear the curses falling from Phil’s lips. They’re French curse words, but Dan has long ago learned to recognise them for what they are.

“ _Merde, oh, putain_... _Dan_...” 

Phil only swears when he’s getting close to coming, so Dan pulls off, crawling back over him in order to seal their mouths together.

“ _Baise-moi,_ ” Dan whispers into Phil’s ear, knowing that this one, filthy phrase never fails to get Phil ridiculously worked up.

Just as expected, Phil groans, long and tortured, shoving two fingers into Dan’s mouth. Obediently, Dan sucks on them, being deliberately sloppy, and Phil watches him with wide, unblinking eyes, his pupils blown. He probably can’t see more than a blurred image of Dan’s general form, but even so, Dan gives it all he’s got.

Phil pulls his fingers free with a pop, pressing them without preamble against the spot between Dan’s cheeks, slipping a finger into Dan immediately. Dan hisses, clenching around the intrusion. They should probably be using lube, but Dan knows that Phil is only bypassing this step because it’s been less than twelve hours since he had Dan spread out on his fingers in this very bed.

He’d fingered Dan last night when they got to the room, exhausted as they both were from a day of travel. They’d checked in to the posh hotel Phil had booked for them, climbed the stairs to their room, and immediately hopped into the walk-in shower together. They’d washed the grime of two stations and several hours of Eurostar off one another under the stream, and fallen, wrapped in pristine, white fluffy towels, onto the enormous bed. It had taken about ten seconds of Phil eyeing Dan, naked in only a towel, to be pulling it off him, slicking up his fingers, and fucking him with them until he saw stars.

“Don’t worry,” Dan chokes out now, as Phil slips a third finger in. “I’m ready, just fuck me.”

Phil hesitates, seeming unsure, so Dan takes it upon himself to wrap a hand around Phil’s length, positioning him, before sinking down into his lap. It seems to punch the air straight out of Phil’s lungs. Hands clutch at Dan’s hips, fingers digging deeply into the flesh. Phil tosses his head back, gasping for a breath, and Dan just closes his eyes, heart thrumming as he feels Phil sliding into him.

He rocks himself down, wanting to draw Phil deeply, to fill himself up. He sets up a slow, careful rhythm, drawing out the bliss of this moment. The two of them, joined so intimately, tucked away in their room in the midst of the sprawling city of love, on the morning of the day that celebrates the same.

“Oh, fuck,” Dan moans as the tip drags across his prostate. “Fuck, Phil,  _je t’aime_.”

He can feel Phil’s surprise in the judder of his hips. “ _J-je t’aime aussi, Dan._ ”

“I really, really love you,” Dan gasps out, speeding up his movements now.

Phil moans, his hands skimming up Dan’s sides. He moves one hand into Dan’s lap, takes hold of his erection in one fist, making Dan groan.

“I know, Dan,” Phil assures him, hand moving in sure, deliberate strokes. “I think you might be the love of my life.”

Dan comes as soon as the words leave Phil’s mouth, and he bows forwards, his whole body wracked with a spasm as the lightning bolt of ecstasy jolts through him. His hands fall to Phil’s chest, and he continues thrusting himself down, wanting to elongate the instant, to send Phil tumbling into this euphoria along with him.

Phil follows moments later, muttering something in French as he shoves himself deeper inside of Dan, burrowing into the heat, his hands clutching tightly.

When it’s over, they fall onto the mattress beside one another, exhausted and elated, the hum of pleasure still skimming across their skin.

“Hmm, an excellent way to begin this day,” Dan says in approval, letting his eyes fall closed for a moment, just basking in the afterglow.

Phil laughs turning to face him. There’s a soft, rosy colour to his pale cheeks. Dan leans in to kiss it, smiling. “You’ve seen nothing yet.”

Dan’s eyebrows shoot up his head, interested. “Oh?”

“I’ve got a whole plethora of Valentines activities in store for you, Danny boy.”

“You… have?”

“Oh yes,” Phil says, grinning. “We should probably get up, in fact. We need to get started.”

Dan can only watch in bewilderment as Phil swings his legs out of the bed, walking towards the bathroom, a slight sway in his hips as he goes.

*

Phil had not been lying when he’d spoken of a full, activity-packed day.

At the end of it, Dan collapses, completely spent, onto the bed in which he’d woken up so wonderfully that morning, and slings his forearm over his eyes - a vague attempt to block out the bright ceiling light.

Merciful, sweet Adonis that he is, Phil turns the dimmer switch down, smiling. As he feels the sweet sensation of Phil laying down beside him, Dan makes a sound of approval, and tucks himself into Phil’s side.

Laughing, Phil pushes his fingers into Dan’s curls, stroking gently. “I wore you out,” he says.

“You fucking did,” Dan agrees.

He’s seconds away from unconsciousness, he can tell. It’s unfortunate, because initially he’d been expecting a passion-filled Valentine’s night. He’d wondered about the various different things he could expect, sexually speaking, on this extra-romantic holiday.

Knowing Phil, there were probably some things planned.

It will just have to wait though, Dan tells his overtired brain, disappointing though that is. He can ask Phil to extend their Valentine’s Day through to tomorrow. There’d be no reason for the older man to object that Dan can think of.

“Did you have a good Valentine’s Day, at least?”

Dan peels his eyes open, horrified that Phil would even need to ask. He frowns up at Phil’s face, trying to convey how silly this question is.

“I had the best Valentine’s Day anyone has ever had in the history of Valentine’s Days,” Dan says with total honesty. “Was that not obvious?”

A smile slides across Phil’s mouth. “What was your favourite part?”

“Hmm,” Dan says sarcastically, his head dropping onto Phil’s chest. “There’s not much to choose from, is there? The private dinner for two on a boat ride down the Seine? Champagne and chocolate tasting in Montmartre? Sneaking past the guards to kiss Oscar Wilde’s tomb? You, recreating our trip to the Eiffel Tower by buying me every single red rose in sight?”

“Yeah,” Phil says with a dramatic sigh. “I see what you mean. I could’ve done better, really. I’ll up my game next year, I swear.”

The smile spreads like warm honey across Dan’s face, stretching and growing until he feels a laugh of pure joy bubbling in his throat. He tilts his face up to look at Phil, knowing that he probably looks like a lunatic, and that his dimples are undoubtedly deep caverns in his cheeks, but he doesn’t care.

This mad, beautiful, incredible man loves him. He loves him so much that he took this day, and used it as an excuse to lavish Dan with an absurd amount of romance. He spoiled Dan in a way he’s never experienced, he poured such thick, syrupy love all over him that Dan is sure he’ll never be able to swim free.

And he never wants to. He’ll happily drown in it, happily drink it all down, sickly sweet as it is. He loves Phil so much in return that he thinks his heart could burst from it. It often seems to be trying - splitting at the seams, bulging with adoration.

He surges up and kisses Phil, shoving the tiredness dragging on his limbs to one side as he flings his arms around his boyfriend’s neck. “Nope,” Dan tells him, speaking the words against Phil’s lips. “ _L’annee prochaine, c’est mon tour_.”


End file.
